


Stolen Glances From Across The Street

by drpepper23



Category: Shameless (US)
Genre: Alternate Universe, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-14
Updated: 2014-08-14
Packaged: 2018-02-13 03:46:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,218
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2135847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/drpepper23/pseuds/drpepper23
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ian and Mickey live across the street from each other. Their relationship is beyond strange.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Stolen Glances From Across The Street

Ian grabbed his coffee, dumping his breakfast dishes in the sink. It was seven o'clock and he knew for a fact his brunet neighbor would be outside in a minute for his morning smoke. Snatching up his cigarettes, he went to the front porch and sat down.

Sure enough, there he sat, Mickey Milkovich in all his glory. Ian didn't really know the other man, had never even said two words to him. The only reason he even knew his name was because the Milkoviches were popular in his old neighborhood, and who the fuck didn't know a Milkovich when they saw one. 

The other man sat quietly, lips firmly wrapped around a smoke. Every few seconds his eyes would stray to Ian and quickly look away. 

This was the game they played. Each watching the other, each pretending that they weren’t. 

Ian stomped out his cigarette and stood up. He knew that Mickey would now grab his lunch pail and head to work. He went inside and quickly snatched up his keys and bagged lunch, so as not to miss the other man when he came out. 

Ian locked his door and turned around to see Mickey doing the same. Simultaneously door slams could be heard throughout the neighborhood, as they each got in their car, and headed to work. Coming to the stop sign at the end of the road, Ian turned left, while Mickey turned right. And thus completed their morning routine. 

That evening, at promptly 7:30, saw them both home from work. Dinner ate, (at least Ian assumed Mickey had eaten dinner,) saw them both on the front porch, a beer in one hand, a cigarette in the other.

“Got another one of those?” 

Ian looked up to see Stan, his neighbor from two houses up, staring down at him. He tried not to sigh. It seemed like Stan always came around at the worst possible times. He looked back to Mickey, to see the other man cutting his eyes at them. Ian felt his pulse quicken. Every time Mickey Milkovich looked his way, he felt something inside him explode. 

Stan, in the process of completely ignoring Ian, reached into the small cooler that Ian kept on the porch, and pulled out a beer. 

Ian raised an eyebrow. “Maybe ask next time?” 

Stan twisted the top off, and down half in one gulp. “I did,” he said, burping and wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. “Thanks.” 

Ian rolled his eyes. “Well at least wait for me to answer next time.” He looked at Mickey, to see the other man diddling with his phone, yet his eyes would still stray their way every few seconds. 

Stan finished his beer, then made a move to get another one. Ian stopped him mid-reach. “What do you want, Stan? I’m not in the mood today.”

Stan snorted and made a winning grab for another beer. “When the fuck are you ever in the mood?”

Ian turned longing eyes back on Mickey, and almost chocked when he saw the other man staring blatantly back at him.

#

Mickey watched his two neighbors talk. Ian Gallagher, the tall, pale, redhead, who invaded Mickey’s every waking thought. He’d been in an imaginary relationship with the man since he’d moved on the block three months ago. They would have their morning coffee and smoke together, leave for work together, have their afternoon beer together, then go in the house and go to bed together, yet they’d never even held a conversation. Shit, they’d never even spoke to say hello.

Mickey sometimes wondered if Ian even knew he existed. He certainly seemed to, the way his eyes would turn that way every three seconds, but Mickey couldn’t be sure. Ian sure seemed to be popular, as fucking Stan was over there every chance he got. He’d never really allowed himself to think about it, but he found himself wondering if Stan could be trying to put the moves on his favorite redhead. 

He looked over, trying to gauge their body language, only to have Ian’s head snap up and look him dead in the face. Mickey drew in a quick breath. The way Ian looked at him sometimes, seemed to set off fireworks inside his body. 

Ian made an annoyed face, and pointed at Stan and shook his head. Mickey burst out laughing and Ian seemed pleased with himself, as Mickey could hear his laughter flowing from all way across the street. 

Stan’s eyebrows furrowed as he looked between the two. Mickey and Ian shared a final smirk and Mickey figured it was time to call it a night. He stomped his cigarette out, finished the last of his beer, and went in the house and closed the door. 

#

Mickey puffed off his cigarette, the cool night air flowing through his hair. It was Friday, which meant no work tomorrow, which meant he and Ian usually sat outside a little longer. He looked over to the redhead, to see Ian silently sipping his beer, throwing glances his way every few minutes. 

Saturday saw them both sleeping in, as neither had went in the house until after 2:00 a.m. the night before. Still sleep heavy, Mickey sat on the side of the bed. Ian would be waiting for him to come outside soon, but he needed a little time to collect himself. A shower, some teeth brushing, and some type of breakfast, would go a long way to making him feel better. 

Ian would just have to wait, Mickey figured. He peeked outside, and sure enough, the redhead was there, staring intently at his house. He decided to take mercy on the ginger and opened his front door, to let the other man know that he'd be out soon. 

#

Ian had had enough. This was the day he would finally break, and say something to his neighbor. Mickey finally came outside and Ian took a deep breath, cracking his neck from side to side. 

Mickey lit up a cigarette and Ian lost every bit of courage he had. Shit. Fuck. Why the hell was it so hard to start a conversation with Mickey Milkovich?

"You look like you could use a night out.” Stan again.

Ian resisted the urge to roll his eyes, but strangely found himself agreeing with the man. “Yeah, okay."

A night out sounded like a good idea, anything to get over this raging hardon he had for his neighbor. 

#

Ian jumped out the car drunk as hell, an equally drunk Stan trying to support him. They’d gone to the alibi and gotten toasted beyond belief. 

"Hey, thanks for the ride,” Ian yelled to Kev. The other man just threw his hand up and drove off. 

Ian jammed his key in the lock and he and Stan barreled through. He vaguely remembered locking the door, asking Stan what the fuck he was doing there, and crashing on the couch.

He awoke the next morning to find Stan eagle spread on the floor, snoring for all he was worth. Oh well, he figured. It wouldn't be the first time they'd gotten drunk and fell asleep in the same place.

#

Mickey sat on his bed looking out his bedroom window. He'd heard Ian and the bald-headed man come home last night and figured from the way they were staggering and loud talking, they were both drunk.

He thought Stan would make sure Ian got in safely and then stumble on home. He'd sat outside two hours waiting for the forthcoming opening and closing of the door. It never came and Mickey had eventually given up and gone inside. 

Usually at this time, he and Ian would be outside, stealing glances at one another, yet the other man's door remained closed. 

It was some fifteen minutes later when it burst open and a barely there Stan came tumbling out. Mickey's eyes widened. What the fuck was Stan doing spending all night at Ian's? The door slammed shut and Mickey closed his blinds, not willing to think on it anymore.

#

Ian knew he'd missed his and Mickey's Sunday morning coffee, but figured he'd make it up to him that evening. Seven o'clock was usually the time they came out for their Sunday evening beer. 

Ian sat outside for three hours before finally admitting defeat and going back in. He wondered if Mickey was sick, or what could have made the other man stay inside.

He checked the window one last time, after coming in. Mickey must have come out as soon as Ian went in, because there he sat, quietly on his front porch, puffing away. 

Ian quickly went back out, but before he'd even sat down, Mickey got up and went back inside, shutting the door firmly behind him. Ian felt his chest tighten as he stood in stunned silence looking across the street. What the hell was going on with Mickey? Had he done something wrong? Ian had no idea, and so he stood there for another ten minutes trying to work it out in his head. Mickey never came back, and Ian, shoulders slumped, finally went inside and closed the door. 

Three days, it had been three days with the same bullshit and Ian wasn't ready to take much more. What the fuck was Mickey Milkovich's problem?

Ian stood outside, staring across the street ,as if he could make Mickey appear by sheer force of will. He didn’t know what the fuck was going on, but he intended to find out.

It was a wasted effort. Mickey stayed inside the rest of the day and Ian finally gave up trying. Fuck it, they lived directly across the street from each other, Mickey couldn’t avoid him forever. 

#

Mickey finally had to admit that he could have been mistaken. Ian hadn’t really done anything wrong and Mickey knew that. He was free to go out with whoever he wanted. Ian and Stan had both been drunk off their asses. So what if they’d spend the night together. Fucking Stan was probably just too drunk to make it home. Either way, it was none of Mickey’s business, and he felt beyond foolish, for getting so worked up about someone he’d never even said two words to. 

The truth was he missed Ian. He missed their morning and evening rituals. He missed seeing that redhead smiling brightly at him every day, missed them sitting on the porch together, sipping beers, and stealing glances. Often enough, his time with Ian was the only bright spot of his day and Mickey just fucking missed it all. 

It was on a Friday when he finally stepped back on the porch, beer in his hand, and cigarette dangling from his lips.

Ian’s eyes turned wide, and his face showed nothing but happiness as he raised his beer bottle and tipped it toward Mickey. Mickey felt relief wash over him. Somehow, he’d gotten it in his head that Ian wouldn’t forgive him and they’d never have this again. He raised his bottle and they did a mock toast, each happy that things were finally back to normal. 

#

It was that next Friday when things finally reached there tipping point. They were having a block party, an end of summer thing, something they did every year. Ian often referred to it as a street party, because it was mostly where everyone on their street cooked or bought something and set it out. 

Mickey provided some of the alcohol and fired up his grill to do the bbq chicken. Ian did the hot dogs, while his neighbor to the right did the hamburgers. Stan did the steak and so on it went, with every house contributing something. 

There was a open area midway up the street, shaded with trees, and awhile back a couple of the neighbors had gotten together to buy picnic tables to sat there. The area was cool, it had a large trashcan, a cooler, and someone had even put a grill there. It was the perfect place to relax on a hot summer day.

After fixing his plate, Ian looked around for Mickey, and saw him headed in that direction. He decided to follow, hoping today would finally be the day. The other man sat at the last table, sipping his beer and picking over his food.

Ian took a deep breath and walked that way. “Mind if I sit here?”

Mickey looked up and startled didn’t even begin to describe the expression on his face. Eyes miles apart, mouth partially open, he nodded once, and Ian sat down with a big ass grin. 

Ian picked up his hot dog, while Mickey bit into his burger. They stayed like that for awhile, neither talking, both eating, drinking their beers, and trying their best to be discreet, as they stole glances at each other. 

Finally Mickey broke. “Look, you wanna come home with me or what, cause I ain’t gonna sat here all night?”

Ian felt something flutter across his heart as he nodded, and stood. He may have had a little extra pep in his step, as he followed Mickey inside and closed the door. He didn’t know what the future held, but for now he was content to just live in the moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks so much for reading. Really hope you enjoyed!


End file.
